


Intimate Measurements

by Reis_Asher



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Formalwear, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multiple Partners, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Suit Porn, submissive Connor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28358781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: Hank takes Connor to be measured for a suit so they can attend a DPD formal event. This simple task turns steamy as Hank realizes he likes seeing other people's hands on his partner.
Relationships: Connor/Original Male Character(s), Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 5
Kudos: 81





	Intimate Measurements

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Connor is shared, consent is non-verbal but absolutely there. This fic features cis Connor.

“Mmm.” Hank kept his eye on Connor as the silver-haired tailor measured his inseam, drawing the tape measure up the inside of his thigh. Hank wanted to do that, but watching someone else touch Connor with tender care was almost as good.

Connor seemed to be enjoying it, too, judging by the electric flash in his eyes when his gaze met Hank’s.

God, and he’d thought this formal event was going to be a bore. He could see now that for the first time in years, it was going to be anything but. He’d show up with Connor on his arm, dressed to the nines in an expensive suit, the absolute star of the show, and nobody would have any doubt in the world that Hank had staked his claim on his partner in a most intimate fashion. The DPD would be buzzing with it, and Hank would feel some measure of relevancy again, the way he had when they spoke of his big Red Ice bust back in ‘34.

His dress uniform would look shabby in comparison, but he was more than fine with that. It was Connor he wanted to show off, this impeccable beauty hanging from his arm like a pretty trinket, laughing politely at all the right jokes, his sweet smile charming the Commissioner. His colleagues would look at him with jealousy in their eyes, wanting what he had for the first time in years.

It was almost like hope, this alien sensation of having something to look forward to. Some achievement to boast of. A legacy beyond being a sad sack of shit with a drinking problem and a tragic backstory. He was done with that. Connor had brought the dawn light with him, ending a long night which Hank was sure would never come to a close.

“Ah.” The tiniest of gasps left Connor’s lips as the tailor parted his legs slightly. The older man politely pretended not to notice the effect he seemed to be having on both Connor and Hank, who sported a chubby in his jeans that was starting to ache.

The tailor caught Hank’s eye for just a moment, and silent understanding passed between them. One man admiring another’s tastes. Hank smirked.

“I’ll need you to strip down for me, sir.” The tailor was nonchalant, but Hank pursed his lips. Connor looked to him for guidance, for permission, and Hank nodded without being consciously aware of it, watching this story unfold with the kind of anticipation reserved for a page-turner.

Connor unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped his fly, sliding the black jeans down and off. He didn’t wear underwear, and his flaccid dick hung between his thighs. Hank might have taken this as a sign of disinterest if Connor was human, but his ability to turn his sexual functions on and off at will led to a surprising amount of restraint that was enough to test Hank’s limits.

The tailor didn’t seem perturbed as he lifted Connor’s soft dick and held it in the palm of his hand, weighing it. He drew the tape measure along the length of it, measuring the four inches as if this was all part of the process. He pulled the tape measure back in and started to gently massage Connor’s cock with an almost casual disinterest.

Connor moaned, and Hank thought he was going to come right there in his pants, watching his pretty young thing being handled by someone else while he watched. Enjoying it, a bright flush playing across his cheeks. Nothing Connor did was unintentional, and Hank knew that blush was for him. Connor wanted to seem innocent, as if he was doing something forbidden by enjoying this. He held all the cards in his hand, as he always had. Hank was nothing more than a player in his game, sentenced to live to die by Connor’s whims. Connor has given him a second chance at life, and he could take it away again, but he showed no signs of wanting to do so.

Connor was fully hard, all six inches of him erect. The tailor measured him once more, displaying him for Hank like he was a fine exhibit he was about to purchase. He reminded himself to thank Connor for this indulgence. It took a lot of trust to allow someone to treat him as an object after the android revolution, and Hank was grateful for it every day. He revered Connor, after all, and hoped the boy knew he was every bit a living being as any human.

But he seemed to like belonging to Hank, and Hank never let himself forget that it was a mutual contract, the pair of them bound together by consent. Connor's eyes met Hank’s, burning with desire and need as the tailor teased him. The tailor seemed to realize he'd reached the point of no return, and he gently unhanded Connor's genitals.

“A fine boy you have here,” the tailor said. “I shall enjoy dressing him.” He left the dais, stepping out of the room for a moment. He came back with an arm full of fabric swatches.

“Which one do you like, Connor?” Hank asked, as if Connor wasn’t fully erect and leaking. Connor’s eyes lidded as Hank took him in hand, teasing him to keep his interest.

“This one,” Connor said, keeping his voice perfectly even. “I like the rough texture.”

“A fine choice,” the tailor said. His erection was causing a sizable bulge in his slacks. Connor looked at Hank, pleading with his eyes as the tailor walked away.

Hank stood behind Connor and leaned in close to whisper into his ear. “You want him to finish you, Connor? You want another man to bring you off while I watch?”

Connor’s blush only deepened. “Yes. Don’t take your eyes off me, Lieutenant. I want you to see it.”

The tailor came back in, clearing his throat. “Will that be all, sirs?”

Hank bit his lip. “He wants to finish.”

“Oh?” The tailor managed a wry smile. “I’m sure I can accommodate you.” He locked the door and walked back over to the dais, lifting Connor’s dick into his hand and picking up where he left off.

Hank never took his eyes off Connor as he gasped and writhed in the man’s hand. Connor met his eyes and smiled, a powerful grin that revealed his status as puppeteer. Hank and the tailor were mere dolls for his use, dancing to his tune, and Hank knew this was the way it was meant to be. Androids weren't just equal, they were superior in every way. Hank only owned Connor because Connor wanted it that way.

“Oh,” Connor gasped, coming all over the tailor’s hand with a spasm, his eyes locked with Hank’s. Hank watched as the tailor licked his fingers, enjoying Connor's load like a decadent treat. He'd tasted that sweet semen himself, and knew how addicting it was. He would have been perfectly fine licking it off the tailor's fingers and blowing him afterward, but Connor would never allow it. He was a jealous and needy lover, eager to touch and be touched but never to share.

Hank left a huge tip instead. They didn’t speak of it as they walked to the car, but Hank knew he was going to fuck Connor senseless once they got home. And again once he received his bespoke suit. Connor had ensured he would think of nothing else at the formal event. Every time he wore that suit, Hank would think of how the tailor had touched him, and he would get hard all over again.

He served a greater being now, and that gave him a reason to live.


End file.
